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THE WORTHY STUDENT OF HARVARD COLLEGE. 



SERMON 



PREACHED IN 



THE CHAPEL OF THAT INSTITUTION, 



LORD'S DAY AFTERNOON 



MARCH 23, 1834, 



BY JOHN G. PALFREY, A. M. 

PROFESSOR OF BIBLICAL LITERATURE. 




CAMBRIDGE: 

JAMES MUNROE AND CO 

1834. 



^ % 



PRINTED BY 1. R. BUTTS, SCHOOL STREET. 



SERMON 



ECCLESIASTES, II. 13. 

I SAW THAT WISDOM EXCELLETH FOLLY, AS FAR AS LIGHT EXCELLETH 
DARKNESS. 

After I last addressed you in this place, my 
friends, it occurred to me to presume upon the pa- 
tience with which I had been listened to, to ask 
jour attention, when next we should meet, to a 
subject which naturally connects itself with what 
was then under our notice.* I trust that on the 
distant grave-stone of one of those whom then we 
commemorated, is to be inscribed, among his other 
titles to honorable remembrance, that he was a 
worthy son of Harvard College, Over the other 
no such record can be graven. Not the green turf, 
— the shrine of the bereft heart's daily pilgrimage, — ¥ 
closed over his form, but the green wave, which in 
its sullen, desolate sequestration from man and his 
habitations, his uses, his works, and his fortunes, 
refuses to bear so much as a trace of human fates or 
feelings. Yet none the less for this, does the thought 

* See Appendix. 



4 



of him too associate itself with the subject I propose, 
in the minds of those, to whom, whatever they wit- 
nessed of worth in him, was revealed in the relation 
of fellow-students in this place. I invite you to 
accompany me in some consideration of the obliga- 
tions, which the wisdom we are all inclined to extol, 
imposes on those who have recourse to her for 
guidance, in meeting the claims of that situation. 
Besides the duties common to men, my hearers, we 
are all bound to such, as are incident to relations 
which we severally sustain. The duties of the re- 
lation alluded to, are capable of being defined ; and 
though they are, of course, essentially the same, 
which are incumbent on those who resort to other 
places of instruction, yet I would ask, for the great- 
er simplicity's sake, and because I am to address 
none but members of this institution, to be allowed 
to pursue the subject in the limited form in which it 
has been stated. 

I. And, first, guided by the text, which contrasts 
the wisdom it extols, with folly, I would treat 
the subject, in a few words, negatively, as was the 
maimer of the old preachers, showing, in a few par- 
ticulars, what a worthy student of this institution 
is not. 

1. He is not a profligate. 

Apart from other considerations, to which I may 
directly have occasion to refer in a different con- 
nexion, he deems too highly of the rights of the 
mind, to be willing to submit his to the odious and 
despicable slavery of appetite. If any are to drudge 
in that ignoble, hard, and all unrewarded service, 



he thinks it should be such as have not had his 
opportunities to acquire a reverence for the mind 
which they so profane, — a fit sense of its dig- 
nity, and of the dignity of its proper pursuits. 
Having had some enjoyment of the vigor of a clear, 
sound reason, he has no notion of becoming a driv- 
eller, quite so soon, as licentious practices might make 
him. Having seen some charms in the lights which 
the imagination pours, he has no idea of clouding 
that purely radiant sun within him, with the fat, foul 
fumes of intemperate indulgence. Having obtained 
some relish for the satisfactions of a taste, 

' Feelingly alive 



To each fine impulse, a discerning sense 
Of decent and sublime,' 

he does not mean that the grand and beautiful in 
nature and art, when they pass before his vision,- 
shall be presented to overplied, and obtuse, and 
vulgarized perceptions, as incapable of catching their 
more delicate lineaments, as a leaden surface would 
be of taking the nicer touches of the graver's art. 
He has some apprehension of the kind of work, 
which a calm, cheerful self-reliance was intended 
to do in the world ; and he will not easily be won 
to adopt prematurely in its place, the timid, re- 
sourceless, nervous debility, which, — while, varied 
with spasms of rashness as little respectable, it is a 
temper which a libertine youth is making haste to 
form, — is never excusable, but when it is witnessed 
in a palsied age. In taking such just and manly 
views, he finds himself here, I am sure, in very well 
accredited and numerous company. Without, I 



trust, going out of my way to form or express an 
opinion, yet having had some opportunity of ac- 
quaintance with similar institutions at home and 
abroad, and been pretty well acquainted with this for 
nearly a quarter of a century, I am ready, for one, 
in all times and places, to make and stand by the as- 
sertion, as far as such opportunities may justify it, — 
and that, as being within the limits of truth, — that 
this institution, in the respect in question, has reason 
to fear comparison with no other, nor with itself at 
any previous date within the same term of years. 
Reasoning back from apparent results, one might 
even suppose that to keep its character free from 
any stain of this sort, had grown up, among those 
who give a tone to its sentiments and practices, 
into something like a point of honor. 

2. If the person whom we are describing is not 
a profligate, no more is he an idler. 

He will no more consent to do nothing with his 
time, than to do mischief with it. He is influenced 
by high and effectual motives to diligence. And he 
cannot have been long here, before he sees ample 
reason to rejoice that he is so, taking nothing but 
his present daily comfort into view. If he had 
begun by trying the experiment, he has found for 
himself, — if happily he have not tried it, he may 
have learned from, or observed in others, or his own 
good sense alone may have shown him, — that a 
college, after a prison and a ship, is the dullest of 
all conceivable places to kill time in. Those w 7 ho 
might otherwise help him to dispose of it agreeably, 
— whose society would offer some immediate at- 



traction, or, at all events, would afford some sufficient 
resource, — he sees, for a general rule, all too busy, 
to give any one aid in the task, so much more 
unmanageable than theirs, of living on without an 
object ; while those who are on that search for them- 
selves, he perceives, have, for a general rule, little 
capacity to yield another relief under the burden of 
unoccupied hours. As he has no inclination to be 
miserable for the years which he has to pass here, 
so he will give way to no inclination to be a drone. 
If he had no better reason for being, diligent, he 
would see cause to be so here, on the principle of 
self-defence against intolerable weariness and dis- 
content. The resources of the place for getting 
rid of one's time, are those of agreeable intellectual 
employment. He who would find others, will be 
more in the way to what he seeks, by directing his 
attention elsewhere. 

3. Again ; the person of whom we are speaking 
is not impatient of authority. 

That there should be authority in such an insti- 
tution, and submission to it, he sees is indispensable 
to its being carried on. If it is to be, it is to be 
administered. If it is to operate at all, it is in 
such uniform and methodical mode of operation, as 
nothing but regulations, prescribing the course of 
those connected with it in all ranks, can secure. 
He is disposed to place a candid, respectful confi- 
dence in the wisdom and honest intentions of those 
entrusted with the devising and the application of 
such rules, knowing that they have been selected 
from the whole community, as persons competent 



8 



in both respects to the work ; selected by those, 
who in this matter represent that community, whose 
tenderest and most anxious cares are for its youth ; 
which would be more sensitive to nothing else, than 
to a danger of its youth being injudiciously or 
hardly treated. He endeavors to see, and is dispos- 
ed favorably to estimate, the reasons of their acts ; 
and as often as those reasons, understood sufficiently, 
approve themselves to his own dispassionate judg- 
ment, his feelings and determinations will ask no 
more, but promptly go along with his conviction. 
If, in any case, he fails of such satisfaction, still he 
does not disguise from himself that at least his 
judgment is less experienced, and may be less im- 
partial, and may not be in possession of all facts 
needful wisely to decide it ; and that they whose 
acts have not pleased him, are at least acting under 
influences disposing them to seek the right, because 
to find the right is an object intimately concerning 
their own interest and fame, and are certainly act- 
ing under a high and distinct responsibility before 
the public, which would not allow them in a course 
incapable of being defended to its satisfaction. 
Again ; he remembers that he came hither, and re- 
mains here, voluntarily, because for some reasons 
of his own cognizance, he has thought it, on the 
whole, best to come and remain ; and enjoying the 
privileges he sought here, he would not desire to 
withhold observance of the conditions, on which 
alone they were offered by those authorised to allow 
or to deny them. Or if he came hither by the will 
of others, and not by his own, still, coming, he re- 



members that he put his own hand to an engagement, 
by which, as a man of honor, he sees himself to be 
bound, in all to which its terms extend. He means 
that his word shall be as good as any man's. How- 
ever much, or however little reason he may see 
cause to respect other things and other people, his 
own word, once passed, he does respect, and he 
means that other people shall always have reason 
to respect it. 

4. Though a point, no doubt, of inferior impor- 
tance to those which have been touched upon, still, 
as one of serious practical moment, I will add, 
while speaking of what the person under our notice 
is not, that he is not inclined to undertake the 
guidance of his own studies. 

He does not think it enough to plead, that he is dil- 
igent, but chuses to be diligent in his own way. He 
understands that modesty is a part of wisdom ; that, 
in youth or in age, there is no being wise without it ; 
and he is willing to suppose it probable that his own 
way might not be the best way to be diligent in. It 
would be very extraordinary, if it should be so 3 if 
they who had been over the same ground which he is 
now traversing, and much more beyond it, — who had 
both the lights on which he relies, and other lights 
which they had been longer seeking, — who were 
able to look back, and with the advantages of youth- 
ful and mature experience both, to discern the 
needs of the ripening mind, — the business of whose 
lives it was, to come to just results in the decision 
of this question, — were able to give him no valuable 
aid of the kind he may have thought of rejecting. 
2 



10 



His choice, in rejecting it, would seem to be merely 
that of the navigator, who should leave behind him, 
at home, the charts already provided for him at 
great expense of time and pains, and repeated anx- 
ieties and embarrassments of earlier voyagers, pre- 
ferring to discover the headlands, and take the sound- 
ings, and project the charts for himself, as he went. 
Such a navigator might, it is true, and he might 
not, make his voyage safely in sufficient time ; but 
at the best, others would, meanwhile, have returned 
with their cargoes of the commodity of which he 
went in quest, — or, having used his time without 
finding his destined port, he would have to return 
with such inferior wares as he might have picked 
up by the way, — and, in either case, would lose the 
advantage of the market. 

II. Having glanced at the folly mentioned in the 
text, in the local aspect I proposed, let us, secondly, 
turn our attention to the wisdom, which, if it con- 
form to the condition expressed, ought to excel the 
folly, as much as light excelleth darkness. And here, 
as it would be undertaking an endless task, to enter 
into the details of conduct becoming in the relation 
in question, and as I am addressing such, as, when 
principles are before them, need no aid in discerning 
their requisite applications to practice, let me speak 
rather of impulses, under which the wisdom, which 
is so excellent, requires a person, so circumstanced, to 
act. And not to propose too wide a range of view, 
let us confine ourselves to the impulses of a just 
ambition for one's self, a just regard to the claims 
of others, and a desire of the divine approbation. 



11 



1. Of a just ambition for one's self. 

A young man, arrived at the age when he has betaken 
himself to someplace of public education, is capable of 
discerning the relations of his present to his future 
years. And, being capable of such discernment, he 
discerns that closely in proportion to the manner, in 
which he is using the passing time, will be the pros- 
pects under which he is to enter upon life, and the 
eventual enjoyments and consequence he may hope 
for in it. He knows, that his history, if by and bye 
it could be written, would be a profoundly moving 
record. He knows, that his coming experience is 
to be full of powerful interest. And what is to be 
the character of that historv, for honor or for shame 
— what is to be the happiness or misery of that 
unavoidable experience, — is a question which is now 
awaiting his determination. Awaiting, do I say ? 
No ; rather extorting his determination. Time will 
not stop, while he deliberates. The question is one, 
which he whom it concerns is even now resolving. 
He has no other discretion, than what respects the 
answer he shall give. As to the world which he is 
by and bye to be better acquainted with, he sees 
reason to give credit to his hopes, that much of the 
good of which experience has told, and which poet- 
ry, in its more natural moods, has sung, is really to 
be witnessed and enjoyed there ; and as to much 
of the necessary evil, with which, according to other 
representations, that good is alloyed, he is inclined 
to think, that often the fault was in him who found 
it, and that a less devious search would have been 
better recompensed, and that often it is the senti- 



12 



ment in such representations, rather than their truth, 
which has caused them to be made. Believing that 
the world has something worth having and worth 
seeking, he sees himself moving forward towards 
his place in a society, which holds out all its prizes 
to wise, and strenuous, and well-principled personal 
endeavor, — in which nothing of privilege in his so- 
cial relations can come to a man by the accident of 
birth, excepting only that wealth, which is very like- 
ly to do him a prejudice, by tempting him to a neg- 
lect of what here are more effective powers ; which 
there is nothing of legal institution to protect against 
the consequences of his own incapacity or extrava- 
gance ; and which, when it is superfluous, — such are 
the frugal customs of our society, — he can hardly find 
a use for, in expenses upon himself, so that, unless 
he be disposed to dispense it in benevolent appropri- 
ations, it will be only the source of just so much 
more perplexity and solicitude, rolling back upon 
him, like the 'huge round stone' of old, with its 
demand for another sore toil to lift it to its place, 
almost as soon as he has struggled through the last. 
He rejoices to see, that he ' so runs, as not uncertain- 
ly ; ' that, in such a state of things, what he most 
cares for, rightly striving, he will not fail to win. He 
sees that, in an enlightened community, prizes such 
as he covets are to be won by enlightened men. 
He sees, that, as much is expected of, so much is 
reserved for, and yielded to, those who have enjoyed 
and employed advantages for intellectual culture. 
For all this, more or less, he is ostensibly a candi- 
date ; and being a candidate, he does not mean, by 



13 



and bye, to be a discomfited and despised one. 
Whatever educated men among us are expected to 
be, and do, and gain, he is aware is inevitably to be 
expected before long of him, as one of their num- 
ber ; and he has a wise prospective sense of the 
mortification and disgrace, which would attend the 
confession or experiment of his incompetency. 
Without disparagement to other similar institu- 
tions of his country, it may be safely said that he 
sees himself here in possession of some peculiar ad- 
vantages ; and what he sees, others will see equally, 
when he comes by and bye to be more subjected to 
their observation, and will judge of his pretensions 
conformably to a standard so reasonably assumed. 
Is it not so, my friends ? What is there in the 
world before you, worth having, which, according to 
the measure of your respective natural powers, you 
may not have, if you will, using well the advantages, 
of which here you are possessed ; and are there not 
tasks of service, which others may honorably decline, 
and distinctions which they may honorably fall short 
of, which could not with decency and good credit be 
avoided, or lost, by us ? And further ; he who 
should think not at all of anything in the way of 
external advantage, which the stores here to be laid 
up in the mind may hereafter procure for him, — 
who should extend his view to nothing, but the 
private satisfactions he will always feel in their pos- 
session, their use, and enlargement; the heightened 
sense of character which they give ; the conscious 
elevation of intellectual dignity, and conscious se- 
curity of intellectual supports ■; the power which 



14 



they convey of always commanding for one's self 
agreeable employment, as well as of enlightening, 
pleasing, and guiding others ; the sober, sagacious, 
and efficient habits of mind which they teach, ap- 
plicable to use in all the practical business of life ; 
the calmness and hopefulness, with which they train 
one to look on this shifting scene ; in short, the 
wealth of independent inward resource, which they 
convey, to meet the exigences of our changing human 
fortunes ; — who that extends his view to these alone, 
would not be somewhat covetously ambitious to 
secure for himself the greatest attainable amount of 
that, in quest of which he is understood to have 
come to this place ? 

2. But, secondly, it is by no means of himself alone, 
that he of whom we are speaking supposes he has a 
right to think. He sees himself here no obscure, 
nor insignificant, nor unrelated person, but belong- 
ing to others, acting under a high and diversified 
responsibility ; and if sense of responsibility is apt 
to convey a sense of character, such a sense of cha- 
racter he sees that it belongs to him tenderly to feel. 

He considers his friends. — They who must provide 
for him have been at great, perhaps inconvenient and 
burdensome expense, requiring even much economy 
and some privation on their part, to secure to him the 
advantages which here he is enjoying. They expect 
their reward, in seeing him come forward favorably 
into life, an honor to them and a blessing to others ; 
and of that reward he does not see himself at liberty 
to defraud them, or to allow it to be any less ample 
than the richest that he can possibly make it. And 



15 



other friends, who are sending after him affectionate 
thoughts and wishes, and looking at his progress 
with hope, and, — if he will allow it to he so, — with 
pride, have a similar, if a feebler claim, which he 
could not, without losing something of his self-res- 
pect, suspect himself to be capable of disregarding. 

He considers those who have been appointed to 
oversee and aid his studies, and he takes for granted 
that for whatever they may faithfully do, they look 
for part of their compensation in seeing that it is also 
successfully done ; a result which, however, does 
not depend on their endeavors alone, but on his 
endeavors combined with theirs. Money, if they 
had more of it, is not apt to be regarded by a right- 
minded man as a sufficient fruit of his conscientious 
pains-taking, — certainly not in a sphere of intellec- 
tual action ; and if, when they have honestly done 
their part, he has neglected to do his, and so they 
have no more to show for their labor, than if they 
had withholden it, he owns that with justice they 
might bitterly complain of a wrong, experienced at 
his hands. 

He considers his associates. — His society here was 
not of their seeking, and therefore for the conse- 
quences of the mere fact of having fallen into it, he 
cannot think of making them responsible. It is 
not their fault, that they are in his company. 
Whether it shall prove to be their happiness or un- 
happiness, is in great part for himself to say. He 
sees himself unavoidably entrusted with a great 
power over them. The power of communication 
and example are always great ; and never greater, 



16 



than when recommended by the attractive graces 
of youth on the one part, and experienced by the 
sanguine frankness and confidence of youth on the 
other. He hopes always to look back, — others 
have said they do so, — to the formation and enjoy- 
ment of college friendships, as among the happiest 
passages of his life ; and to the end that he may never 
have anything but satisfaction, — that he may never 
have compunctious visitings,— in that retrospect, 
he intends now to take care that none shall ever 
have it to say that his friendship was a calamity 
to them, but that, cm the contrary, as many as pos- 
sible shall have it to say, — and that, too, as cor- 
dially and gratefully as possible, — that he was 
always a benefactor to them, in respect to their 
principles and habits, as well as to their present 
pleasures. He would like to meet, hereafter, as 
many as may be, in the walks of life, who should 
have occasion to testify, that at an age when all 
influence was peculiarly important, they never ex- 
perienced any but what was good from him. 

He thinks of the community. — It looks on all 
its youth with an intense solicitude ; and it means to 
demand of each one of them, in good time, accord- 
ing to the measure of his powers, place, and ac- 
quisitions, — in the post of honor of a public or 
of a private station, — such service as, under the in- 
fluence of a liberal public spirit, he shall be found 
capable of rendering. And certainly it has not 
been at such pains to accumulate for him such an 
apparatus of means for mental cultivation, and is not 
at such pains, year by year, in its highest quarters, 



17 



to superintend their improvement and use, so that he 
may have their utmost benefit, — without intending 
to demand from him its large equivalent, in true 
service to all its high interests, in those select 
spheres of action, where man is to act most vigor- 
ously, widely, and beneficently. 

He owns some obligations to the patrons, on 
whose high-souled bounty he is living and learning 
here ; from the full-handed generosity of the prince 
and the prelate, the noble and the sage, to the no 
less enlightened and hearty, if less furnished zeal 
for letters, which did not feel itself too poor, and, in 
its poverty, would not allow itself to be too falsely 
proud, to come hither with its dedicated contribution 
of the widow's single mite. I know not which is 
more moving, whether the impatient anxiety of the 
first Christian dwellers on this soil, to provide for 
those interests of the mind, to which they w T ere wise 
enough to see that all other interests are but conse- 
quents and subjects, and to build a temple for learn- 
ing and Christianity, while as yet they had hardly 
built a hut for themselves, — or the filial perseverance 
of so many of their children in later times, evinced 
in the proportion of more affluent means, to sustain 
and enlarge the seasonable endowment; whether 
the far-reaching and well-provided beneficence of 
those illustrious friends to liberty, truth, goodness, and 
their race, who turned their keen eyes, and stretched 
their loaded hands to us across the ocean, the Hol- 
lises, the Holdens, and others fitly named along with 
them, — or the hardly but magnanimously earned, 
the hardly but cheerfully spared gifts, of a few shil- 
3 



18 



lings, a quantity of cloth, a number of sheep, 
even a flagon, a trencher, a spoon,* by which others, 
in our day of small things, took care to show, that, 
as far as they were concerned, every man, neither 
ashamed to do his little, nor backward to do his 
much, should do his part towards the great object; 
— ' contributions,' well says our historian, 'from 
pious, virtuous, enlightened penury, to the noblest 
of all causes,' — and contributions, let us add, of the 
buried, unseen, unremembered basis, without which 
the magnificent superstructure would not now be 
standing. I know not, I say, in which of its thus 
varied aspects, the high charity, on which our minds 
are now fed, is most moving ; but I understand 
nothing of the constitution of that mind, which, 
contemplating it in either aspect, is not moved to 
firm resolve, that, for itself, the generosity, so de- 
voted, shall not prove to have been expended in 
vain. 

Such is at least the resolution of him of whom we 
are speaking ; and as he considers the just claims of 
those, to whose pious bounty he here stands so much 
indebted, so he considers, again, them who have pre- 
ceded him here in the enjoyment of the advantages 
which that procured, — the wise, and great, and holy, 
who from generation to generation have drunk in their 
spirits' best inspiration on this spot ; — those star- 
bearers on our catalogue, so many of them, if I may 
reverently say it, now sceptre-bearers in the courts 
of heaven. His thought is, that we, who have come 

* Pierce's History of Flarvard College, p. 17. 



19 



here into their place, and they who have gone 
higher, all make one brotherhood. We bear the 
name they bore. We have professedly taken up 
with them a common cause. We ought to be ani- 
mated by a common spirit. As we glory in their 
characters and labors, as if they belonged to us, he 
thinks that, if heavenly spirits may look on earthly 
things, they are equally intent on ours, — solicitous 
for ours, if heavenly spirits may be, — as if we too 
belonged to them. 

c Rapt in celestial transport, they, 

Yet hither oft a glance from high 

They send of tender sympathy, 

To bless the place, where on their opening soul 

First the genuine ardor stole.' 

He thinks of the posterity, which by a forward- 
reaching mind is always making heard its imperi- 
ously awful claim, in tones resounding and re-re- 
sounding through the dim vastness of its still widen- 
ing dominion ; the posterity, which influences go- 
ing forth from this place are undoubtedly to bless or 
to ban. If it be true, that, under providence, hu- 
man affairs are subject to the management of hu- 
man minds ; if it be true, that, according as they 
are managed, consequences worthy of serious con- 
sideration, pregnant with grave meaning,-will result ; 
if it be a fact, that over human destiny, as we 
call it, there presides an earthly sovereign, even 
principled wisdom; that truth and righteousness 
are the elements of public and universal well-being 
and advance ; if it be indubitable, that truth and 
righteousness, if they have any dwelling, must 



20 



dwell in individual minds and hearts ; and if it be 
true, that educated men are able to do something to 
push on their empire, and attract them worshippers ; 
— then it is true, that there is something, which each 
and every educated man ought to look upon posterity 
as imploring at his hands. If it be true? That which 
was once future is now history, and it has written 
down its answer to that question. It has record- 
ed, that it is true. All which ever has been worthi- 
ly done, was once to be done ; and unless they, who 
have done it, had given the heed, of which I am 
speaking, to the demands which the future was 
making on them, accomplished it never would have 
been. We, my friends, have much to do in this 
way, if we would not shame our forerunners here. 
What this our country has done for the cause of 
man, others might much better estimate ; I presume 
not to have a judgment on it. But, of what it has 
done, more or less, 1 venture to ask your attention 
to the inquiry, how much had its germ and origin at 
the spot where we stand ; and to suggest, that if 
we, of this college, mean to endeavor to do, for the 
future, anything like what was done, by our prede- 
cessors of this college, for what is past to us, but was 
future to them, we have taken no small work in 
hand. ' If I am able to judge,' said, at the begin- 
ning of the last century, a clergyman of the neigh- 
boring city,* than whom the institution never had a 
more serviceable friend, — ' if I am able to judge, no 
place of education can well boast a more free air 
than our little college may ; and when I visited the 
famous universities in England, I was proud of my 

* Dr. Colman. 



21 



own humble education here in our Cambridge, be- 
cause of the Catholic spirit I had there breathed in.' 
And the fruit of that discipline of leading minds had 
made itself acknowledged, when an English states- 
man, in recent years, declared that the so early es- 
tablishment of this college hastened the American 
revolution half a century. The remark was strong ; 
but let him who would gainsay it, look into our co- 
lonial history, and see where he will find his mate- 
rials for doing so. — A political revolution is a tangi- 
ble thing, and its causes are capable of scrutiny and 
estimation. Not equally so are many other things and 
events, intimately concerning the honor and welfare 
of a nation or an age. But let any one undertake, 
in the way of cause and effect, to connect any de- 
partment of what belongs to the prosperity and dig- 
nity of the society in which we live, with influences 
which have gone forth, in time past, from this spot, 
he will find, on the most cautious calculation, that if 
he does not mean to be recreant to its ancient fame, 
he has something else to do besides fold his arms, 
and allow posterity to take care of itself. 

3. I have been led so unexpectedly far by this topic, 
that I have left myself no time to treat the last, on 
which it was my purpose to enlarge. I remember, 
however, that unlike others, which have been now 
before us, it is constantly receiving our attention in 
some of its forms, and that much of what has now 
been said, in other connexions, has a bearing upon this. 
I must content myself with merely stating some heads 
of remarks, which I had designed to make, in the 
place of pursuing them. 



22 



The person, of whom we are speaking, will 
go about the duties of the relation which he 
sustains, under the impulse of the fear of God, 
first and mainly, because he knows, that nei- 
ther for himself nor for any other human being, 
where he is nor elsewhere, in youth nor age, in 
time nor eternity, is there any hope of happiness, 
except in the culture, and the consequences of the 
culture, of that sentiment ; but, on the contrary, an 
appallingly fearful looking for of judgment, in its 
place. — He perceives that he, more than others, 
ought to be expected to be moved by that great 
goodness of God, evinced when, by his own inspi- 
ration, he gave man understanding, designating him 
to dominion over other earthly creatures, appointing 
him a place a little lower than the angels ; be- 
cause he, more than others, who toil on the dusty 
highway of life, may be supposed to have learned 
what a noble and bliss-giving class of endowments 
the intellectual are. — He feels, that if the peculiarly 
privileged in condition are bound to entertain a pe- 
culiar gratitude to the overseeing providence, which 
disposes of men, the obligation to such a gratitude 
is on him, permitted to devote his youth without 
interruption to the most liberal pursuits, and placed 
upon that way into life, that lands at its most honor- 
able trusts and eligible circumstances. God has been 
very gracious to him. He sees it, or he is blind. He 
is touched and excited by it, or he is unfeeling. — He 
is sensible that, with the preparation of his superior 
intellectual training, and consequent enlargement of 
mind, it will be his own fault if he do not find even 






23 

higher pleasures, than others, in this respect less 
privileged, in religious meditations ; being able to 
form some less unworthy conceptions, than they, of 
the objects on which those meditations turn. And, on 
the other hand, he is satisfied that he will be doing 
a cruel wrong to that intellectual nature he so 
prizes, — that he will weaken and pervert, at least 
that he will not properly guide, strengthen, and feed 
it, nor ever know all its versatility, opulence, and 
power, — unless he take care to give it the advantage 
of that healthiest discipline, which only the religious 
spirit is able to apply. — In his speculations upon 
that generosity, which is deservedly such a favorite 
quality with youth, he has perceived, that if the 
word be used for an attribute of feeling, piety is at 
once the highest style of generosity, and, if we may 
further distinguish, its most reasonable and happi- 
est form ; and he has had the perspicacity to discern, 
from reasons of the case, and induction of such 
facts as have been before him, that any principle 
short of it, is a very miserable furniture for the tasks, 
and the trials, and the struggles, and the enjoyments 
of the world. — It animates him to think, that, acting 
in its own lofty and disinterested spirit, the accom- 
plishments he has been permitted to acquire, make 
him capable of rendering better service to religion, 
than others, with the best dispositions, have to offer; 
that already, for good or evil, he has great power 
in this respect, over the little world around him, and 
that directly, in the greater world, he is to be one of 
the watchmen of public sentiment, and guardians 
of private character. — He has speculated sometimes, 



24 



— who in his circumstances has not ? — on the 
perfect conception of a man ; and he has settled it 
to be the idea of one, in whom the intellectual and 
moral powers, which ally the human with superior 
existences, are broadly and evenly developed, — the 
life of the mind and the life of God, mutually sus- 
tained and quickened. His books have taught him 
this of good, — in addition to much else, — that in 
that bright idea there is no fictitious combination. 

' Learning hath borne such fruit in other days, 
On all her branches ; piety hath found 
Friends in the friends of science, and true prayer 
Hath flowed from lips wet with Castalian dews.' 

That is the example, which fills his mind and satis- 
fies his heart. That is the example, which now and 
always he would exhibit, not to challenge others' 
admiring praise, but for the much better end of at- 
tracting the zealous imitation of every one whose 
sight it may bless. 



APPENDIX 



The allusion on the first page is to the death of Mr Frederic 
William Hoffman, son of David Hoffman, Esq. of Baltimore, who died 
at Lyons, in France, Dec. 9th last, and to that of Mr William Chapman, 
son of the late Jonathan Chapman, Esq. of Boston, who died at sea on 
his passage to the Cape of Good Hope, Sept. 24th ; the former a 
member of the Junior Class, the latter of the Sophomore. The ser- 
mon preached on the Lord's day after intelligence of the death of one 
had been received, and a eulogy had been pronounced on the other 
in the College Chapel, was from the text ; ' Behold, the fear of the 
Lord, that is wisdom.' Job xxviii, 28. The purpose of the Sophomore 
Class, who asked a copy for the press, will, I trust, be answered by 
the following extract. 



We may always be observing something of that excellent wisdom of 
the principle of the fear of God, which, in some of its chief characteris- 
tics, I have now been endeavoring to set forth. It is merely the fault 
of our own blindness, not of any eclipse or faintness of its lustre, if, at. 
any time, we see it not. But part of the administration of God's pro- 
vidence has reference to this indistinctness of our perceptions. He 
takes care that we shall be enlightened, if we do not covet and seek 
the light, as we ought ; and one of the benefits, conveyed to us, from 
time to time, at the heavy cost of missing from our side the wise and ex- 
cellent in youth or in age, is, by effectually warning us to number our 
own days, to make us reflect on the high wisdom, to which it concerns 
our safety that our own hearts be applied ; and, by compelling us to an 

4 



26 



analysis of the qualities, which made them the objects of our respect 
and hope, to cause human affection to minister to the divine graces of 
the christian life. And this latter, as well as the former, which is 
more independent of us, is a use which every one should distinctly 
design and strive that his memory may serve, whenever it may please 
God that only by the influence of his remembered virtues, and no 
longer by his agency in life, he shall continue to do service in the 
world. Here is a great, a most substantial service ; and one which 
needs not a long life to do. On the contrary, if youth be the season 
of life the most susceptible of influence, then he who, called early 
away, addresses youth with sanctifying influences of the memory 
which he leaves behind, is privileged so far to be a peculiarly efficient 
benefactor, when the places, which have known him, shall come to 
know him no more. 

We could hardly have failed, my hearers, of a more than commonly 
distinct discernment of the truth of the doctrine I have been urging, 
while, two days ago, we contemplated the faithful portraiture, exhibit- 
ed to us in this place, of a late valued associate of our studies. Faith- 
ful, I call it, in all its emphatic and high-wrought testimony to the worth 
which is departed ; for so a most unanimous and cordial consent of 
all, Avho had special opportunity to estimate its correctness, declares 
it to have been, while those of us, whose privilege in this respect was 
less, find, on our part, that the idea filled out in the high praise we 
listened to, was the same, which, in its outlines, had been conveyed 
to our own minds, and call up, if with melancholy, yet with most 
grateful feelings, the recollection of the uncommon, — shall I say, 
the admiring interest, — which the partial developments to us, of 
a character, in all its aspects so beautiful, had inspired. Yes, my 
friends, opportunities very limited in respect to time, are sufficient, 
well used, to do vast and enduring good with. I doubt not, that an 
influence has already gone forth, from the life and death of him, whom 
lately you have mourned, which it is little to predict will be owned by 
many for a precious blessing to their latest earthly day. 

While bereft and disappointed friendship was yet preparing to ex- 
press with due commemoration its sense of its loss, other tidings of 
like sad tenor come to add to the solemn impressiveness of the les- 
son we were learning. If, in the one case, the bitter cup had to be 
drained, of witnessing the failure of all that was within the resources 
of the tenderest and most devoted domestic assiduity, in the other 
the sad consolation was denied, of ministering to the fainting frame, 
and of converse with the departing spirit. While, in this instance, 
too, attached companions see the instructions of life's mournful ex- 
perience beginning to be addressed to them, a band of affectionate 



27 



brothers and sisters is now made to sorrow for a deservedly prized 
object of trusting and hopeful love. If he, who was earliest taken* 
but of whose departure we are last apprized, has not left vacant, in 
the parental heart, that place which.it belongs to the virtues and the 
devotion of a son to fill, yet that parental heart, on which the heavy 
blow is now made to fall, is the already stricken one of a widowed 
mother. Of him, too, thank God, we are justified in saying, that his 
spring time gave flattering promise of a bountiful and substantial 
harvest. I find evidence among his companions, of the confidence, 
respect, and good will, with which, during the short time they enjoy- 
ed to make each other's acquaintance, his integrity and friendliness 
inspired them ; and his instructors testify to his conscientiously dili- 
gent and successful attention to the proper pursuits of the place. I 
believe it all, and much more ; — more, that is, in respect to what is 
not equally apparent. A relation, in which T once stood to him, gave 
me sufficient opportunities to know, that he came hither with princi- 
ples, which, existing in such strength as that which they then 
showed in him, are not likely to be changed for the worse by a 
transfer to this place. I regarded him with peculiar interest, — as did 
others with similar means of information, — as a young person of un- 
common purity and conscientiousness, amiableness, and force of char- 
acter ; who gave gratifying assurance in the qualities of his mind 
and heart, that he would profit richly by the advantages which here 
he was seeking ; and that, when he should go hence, it would be to 
devote the ample acquisitions, which it was to be anticipated he 
would make, to none but high and commendable objects. He was 
confidently looked to, as one rising up to be an honor to his friends, 
and a blessing to others, in some important place of duty. I had 
occasion to be acquainted with the fact, that, in addition to other indi- 
cations of a governing sense of duty, he was then uncommonly well 
versed, for his age, in what are most strictly called religious studies. 
And in this connexion I hold myself,— and hope I may be considered, 
— to speak emphatically in his praise, when I add, that, before coming 
hither, he had already been associated with others, in imparting to 
younger persons the religious instruction, of which, in earlier years, 
he had been himself the subject. He had been, I say, a teacher of a 
Sunday school ; an office, which except under truly religious im- 
pulses, a person is not likely to undertake ; an unassuming, but most 
efficient office of Christian benevolence, which I hope and believe, — 
and that on the ground of past experience, — that not a few, whom I 
address, will find themselves undertaking, when they shall have been 
dismissed from these walls, into a world, which will then directly 
place before them many of its diversified demands for useful action. 



28 



Eulogy is not my office ; but, having been led thus far, and having 
had opportunity to know how happily a life, so worthily begun, was 
closed, I venture to suppose that, in the absence of any more conven- 
ient channel for obtaining the information, his associates may be 
willing to receive from me some statements, relating to the termina- 
tion of our young friend's history. If they affect other minds as they 
have affected mine, I shall look for no other reason for entering into 
such a detail. He left his home, in the vain hope of re-establishing 
his health under the influence of a milder climate, about the middle 
of last August. In the accounts, which his friends yesterday received) 
nothing is said of the first two weeks after his departure, except that 
his strength and spirits had revived in them to that degree, that he was 
observed to decline, as scarcely any longer an invalid, the little atten- 
tions which every one around him was prompt to offer. From this time, 
the weather of a warmer latitude manifestly increased his debility, 
and he was perceived to have abandoned all confident expectation of 
recovery ; though, till the twentysecond day of September, he con- 
tinued daily to take the air upon the ship's deck. On the twenty- 
fourth, after being not materially more feeble than usual through the 
early part of the day, he was affected in the afternoon with a faintness, 
on recovering from which he calmly said, ' I perceive my time has 
come to leave you.' He then closed his hands, — I use mostly the 
words of the record of the commander of the vessel, the graphic and 
touching simplicity of which is the best possible evidence of its exact- 
ness, — and his eyes directed upward, prayed audibly to his Heavenly 
Father for forgiveness of all past offences, and commended his spirit 
to the mercy of God through Christ. He then said, ' now i am pre- 
pared to go,' and composed himself apparently as for his last struggle. 
But after a silence of three or four minutes, his eyes closed, and evi- 
dently in prayer, he used expressions of which the following are 
preserved. ' I am spared a little longer ;'— < I have endeavored to make 
preparation for this event ;' — ' I have endeavored to prepare myself 
for God's will ;' — ' I die in the faith and hope of the Gospel.' After 
describing him as again lying quietly, his lips in motion, and his eyes 
closed for a time in inaudible prayer, the account goes on with a 
detail of kind messages sent to his friends at home, accompanied with 
mementos of his regard to them and those around him, — among others 
of his Bible to his mother ; (Oh! how often does the filial heart find 
room to blend the memory of God's love and a mother'slove together, in 
its last throb of gratitude!) Resuming his former quiet position for some 
minutes, he gathered his little remaining strength, and addressing two 
fellow-passengers, whom he begged to excuse for what mightseem un- 
becoming freedom in a younger person, urged them to secure their hope 



29 



and joy, in what, under such circumstances as they were witnessing, 
made his. ' Later in the afternoon,' the writer goes on, ' though I began 
to hope he might yet remain some days, he again spoke, after resting 
awhile, of his approaching end. I said to him, I hoped he might pass 
a comfortable night. He shook his head, and raising his hand, pointing 
upward with his finger, answered only 'to-night,' repeating the word, 
and adding, ' I am as well prepared to die now, as I shall be.' — There 
is nothing to be told more, except that, after being soothed for a time 
by listening to some passages of scripture, at length a delirium came on, 
in which the moving shadows cast by the hanging lamp, as it swung with 
the heaving of the sea, were taken and greeted for his distant friends ; 
and among them it is a satisfaction to one not of his kindred,but who cer- 
tainly loved him, and wished him well for time and eternity, to know that 
his name was often affectionately uttered. 'Throughout the scene,' 
says the writer, speaking of the period of discomposure of his mind, 
' not a word was uttered, which might not have been spoken by an an- 
gel in Heaven.' About eleven o'clock of that evening, having made a 
sign to be supported on the arms of those about him, he resigned his 
spirit, without a convulsion or the movement of a muscle. The next 
day, what was mortal of him was committed to the deep, with all 
studious observance of the rude but imposing ceremonial, with which 
a company of saddened men, on the stern solitude of that element, 
dismiss the no longer animated clay.* 

This is the first time, my hearers, that I ever ventured to speak in 
public, of the exercises of a death bed. I hope it has not been in the 
spirit of curious intrusion upon the sacredness of that serious scene. 
I add not a word of comment. You, his associates, will bear witness, — 
if you knew the same generous, frank, simple, manly youth, who was 
known to me, — that there was no acting, in the narrow, wave-tost 
chamber from which your brother's spirit past away. — And if not that, 
then there was witnessed there a specimen of the promised triumph of 
that faith, which overcomes the world, — its distresses and its attrac- 
tions ; the sustaining energy of that peace of God, which passeth un- 
derstanding ; the security which asks of death, ' where is thy sting ?' 

* Is it the unusualness, — or what else is it, — in the scene, which gives such so- 
lemnity to a funeral at sea ? The ship swung to the wind, and made to pause on her 
way, as if to attend to the tribute of human feeling} — the corpse, surrounded by 
a circle of mute men, with the flag of the distant native country spread over it, 
and again streaming above, in expressive signal of what is passing to some eye 
which may be watching it in the low horizon ; — the service read in under tones 
of a voice, which you have been used to hear along with the storm ; — the 
one parting sound of descent into a grave, which cannot be revisited 3 — and then 
the ensign dropping, while the sails fill, and the vessel springs forward on her 
course. 



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